


Reunited (This is the Hard Part)

by Vrunka



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Cyber Ninja Hanzo, M/M, Sentai Genji Shimada, Shimadacest, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 16:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11627634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrunka/pseuds/Vrunka
Summary: Hanzo is frozen, reliving some...some part of what was done to him most likely. Trapped in his own head in a flashback.Angela had told Genji this might happen. This is why she had begged to take Hanzo back with her.





	Reunited (This is the Hard Part)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Muja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muja/gifts).



> Commission for Muja who wanted some nice comforting reunited shimadas! And dicks :3

The fish is burning. Curling and smoking in the pan, caramelizing.

Hanzo is staring at the ceiling.

He does not seem to see the mackerel meeting its end on the stovetop.

Genji clears his throat.

Nothing, no response.

Hanzo's fingers are wrapped white-knuckled around the handle of the pan. His throat is moving. The scars are white and stark and terrible. His metal arm hangs at his side.

He is frozen, reliving some...some part of what was done to him most likely. Trapped in his own head in a flashback.

Angela had told Genji this might happen. This is why she had begged to take Hanzo back with her.

Genji steps into the kitchen. Hand outstretched.

"Hanzo," he says. "Big brother?"

It feels strange, calling him that after all this time. It hurts more than Genji wants to admit. The memory of Hanzo being ripped from him comes so easily when he says it. Men in the night, Hanzo struggling, the dark black of the bag over his head and Genji powerless to stop it, fifteen years old, yelling for his brother and pissing himself.

Genji closes his eyes and drags his mind away from the thoughts.

"Hanzo," he says again. Hand hovering, never quite touching Hanzo's scarred shoulder, the cyclical dragon brand. The fucking Shimada clan.

"Hanzo, I think the fish is done."

Hanzo blinks. His throat bobs.

Genji's fingertips brush his arm. The raised, toughened skin of the burn.

No more then a second, a heartbeat.

Hanzo explodes into motion.

Genji's instincts save him a hot frying pan to the face. He twists and drops his weight. Hanzo's fist blurs past his head. Hanzo's mouth locked in a snarl.

"Brother!" Genji yells, catching Hanzo by the wrist. A hand coming up to cup Hanzo's cheek. "It's me! It's just me."

Watching the animalistic light leave Hanzo's eyes is more than a little bit unnerving. Hanzo blinks again. Catches his breath. His fingers twitch. His expression softens.

Until Genji is holding his brother again. The mindless killing machine buried once more. Under control.

"Genji," Hanzo says. There's a question in the upswing of it. Hanzo's hand raises to stroke the back of Genji's hand. Gentle.

Gentle.

"Did I...hurt you?"

"You killed the fish," Genji says with a grin. Making light of a situation that is frankly quite terrifying. But if Genji can smile through it then...then, well, they'll be okay. And Genji will make them be okay. "There's no harm done, Hanzo."

Hanzo looks away. His metal fingers curl upon the counter. "I'm sorry," he says.

"It's nothing. Some fish. Let's order in, huh? Instead."

\--  
"Do you want to talk about it?"

Angela specifically told Genji not to ask this.

'It could push him into a spiral,' she had said, 'when he's ready to face it, he'll come into it on his own. Pushing this early--'

But Genji is going crazy. Hanzo's silences worry him. Those long stretches of disconnect. Like someone somewhere has remotely pulled the plug on his brother's brain. Angela has assured him that isn't the case, that whatever bug it was that made his brother a mindless killer has been at least somewhat neutralized.

Hanzo, now, chopsticks poised over his takeout container of rice, meets Genji's gaze. Something desperate in his brown eyes. That shifting animalistic nervousness.

He licks his lips.

"I don't...remember much," Hanzo says. "Beyond..." he makes a small gesture, the chopsticks click together.

Genji's face is still swollen in places. The bruises yet to fade where the face plate of the helmet had been shattered against his jaw.

A fight to end all fights.

And it had ended with both of them in tears. Wrapped around each other. Reunited.

After fifteen years.

If Angela had seen that, maybe she wouldn't be so adamant about taking Hanzo away again.

Genji grins. "Ah," he says. "Okay. I was just...well, I mean. If you remember anything or-or wanna talk, I'm always here to..."

Hanzo nods. He looks down at his food. Greying at the temples. He's become an old man. They both have gotten older.

Doesn't stop Genji from sneaking into Hanzo's room that night. Standing in the doorway with only the light from down the hall illuminating him. Silent as he can be. Watching Hanzo sleep.

The restless tossing is the same tonight as it is every night.

Disturbed dreams.

Playing out the horrors he faced at the hands of their family. And Talon. Genji grips the frame as the anger rocks through him. The useless, drowning wave of it. He would tear every last sector and agent of Talon apart if he could. He would kill everyone of them.

It's not heroic.

But he would.

Hanzo sits up in the bed. His hair is down, soft and thick around his shoulders. Genji slinks back behind the wall before Hanzo can catch him spying.

Genji returns to his room.

\--

"You have to be more careful," Angela says. "This reckless streak is going to get you killed, you know, Neo."

She's wrapping his arm. The nanobots are already working on the flesh beneath the gauze. Mending and buzzing in the skin. Genji looks down at his feet. The glowing soles of his boots reflecting off the pavement.

The upgraded bastion units have left a trail of wires and cogs and bullet casings strewn down the alley like guts. Exposed innards, ripped asunder by Genji's sword.

And painted on each the Shimada dragons, ouroboros in nature, white and glaring on the sleek black metal.

Genji flinches as Angela digs another bullet out of him. The slug is sickly grey-red, dripping as she pulls it from him. She lets it drop to the ground with a disgusted little sound.

"You can't run off alone like this," she says. "You got lucky this time, but..."

"These people tortured my brother, Mercy."

"I know. But that doesn't mean--"

It does mean. She doesn't know or understand, not the right way. They turned Hanzo into a creature, a slaughtering machine. They covered his hands in blood.

And now they will pay.

"They will pay," Genji says. The helmet hides his expression from her, but his tone carries the weight.

Angela blanches. She tucks her hair behind her ear. "And you'll just...what? Keep fighting until you die? What will become of your brother then?"

"I'm doing this for him."

Angela shakes her head. Her eyes narrow. "You're doing it for you, Genji. Don't pretend there is anything noble about this. Don't pretend that--"

But Genji doesn't hear what else she has to say. Genji cannot hear it because he is already leaving. Stalking out of the alley. Seething.

She is wrong.

He is doing it for Hanzo. All of this, all fourteen fucking years spent being Sentaiman, has been for Hanzo.

For the brother that was stolen from him. For the brother that was returned to him so broken.

Hanzo is cleaning the mechanism of his arm when Genji returns to the apartment.

He blushes. The mechanical fingers twitch. Uncomfortable. These new parts of him are weird for them both.

Genji smiles although it makes his gut turn to see the clicking pistons and disks so exposed. He smiles because he's doing this for Hanzo.

"Don't mind me," he says, dropping the bag with his Sentaiman gear by the front door.

Hanzo's fingers twitch again. "I did not think you would be home so soon."

Genji sighs, runs a hand through his hair and collapses in the chair opposite Hanzo at the table. "Wasn't a great lead," he says. "Just a small job, really."

Hanzo's eyes linger over Genji's bandaged arm. The new bruises. "You were hurt?"

"Bit off maybe a little more than I should have." Genji licks his lips. "I'm fine though. Got the bastards, right?"

"I guess." Hanzo resumes disassembling parts of his arm. Lays the pieces before him on the table as someone would the parts of a gun.

Genji recognizes some of the technology but much of it is beyond him. He reaches out, meeting Hanzo's gaze before touching anything.

"May I?" he asks.

Hanzo blinks. Nods. Genji's fingers close over the closest foreign piece. He turns it between his palms.

"What is this?"

Hanzo frowns. Shifts. Beneath the table his mechanical legs brush against Genji's; an accident, probably, but Genji is suddenly hyper-aware of it.

"A type of..." Hanzo pauses searching for the word. "Like a sensor I suppose? When I activate it, it launches a homing signal that picks up movement and activity around the receiver."

"Seeing through the dragon's eyes?"

"Something like that. I don't think Father ever meant like this."

Genji swallows. "You remember much about him?"

They were so young when he passed. Smuggled away from their home and the terror of their family just after his death. Genji remembers so little about him. A smell more than anything. A few choice adages he would repeat to them before bed.

Hanzo shakes his head. "Not much," he says. "I remember when it was just us."

"Better times," Genji says. It's too blasé. Makes light of fifteen years of agony. Genji regrets it as soon as he says it.

Hanzo shrugs. He holds his hand out and Genji places the piece in his upturned palm. He watches as Hanzo clicks it back into place, secures it with a twist of the screwdriver.

"I didn't mean that," Genji says. "I'm so glad to have you back, you know that don't you, Hanzo?"

Hanzo looks at him. He nods. "I know, Genji."

Genji wants to apologize further. For so much more than just sticking his foot in his mouth. For being so helpless all those years ago, for letting them take Hanzo at all, for not being able to stop it. He's sorry, he's so sorry.

And he'll never be over that.

And he has no idea how to express it.

Genji swallows. "Hanzo," he tries again, "I missed you so much. And I was so worried."

Hanzo nods again. Slower this time. "I know you looked for me. They..." He shakes his head, his organic fingers are curled into a fist. "They moved me around a lot more recently. I remember traveling between..." he pauses on the word, debating.

"Missions," Genji offers.

"Assassinations." Hanzo's fingers twitch, without thinking, Genji reaches across the table and folds his own over them. Cold, cooler than they should be, something off with circulation in his half-cybernetic body. His legs brush against Genji's again. "They wanted me to kill you but they were afraid to let us meet. I think they knew that I wasn't-wasn't conditioned properly. They didn't know how much I--" Hanzo frowns.

His hand clenches tighter.

Bloodless.

Genji turns his palm and interlaces their fingers together. A little amazed when Hanzo allows the intimacy.

"How much you what?" Genji asks. Breathless.

This too they have danced around.

This extra, forbidden facet.

With only each other when they were younger; with no one else to rely on or care for or trust. Genji remembers the kisses, the fevered rush of them. Like even as children they knew their time was limited, that some trial was coming.

He hasn't pressed it since Hanzo's miraculous return into his life. He's been afraid to. But he's never forgotten.

Hanzo rolls his head. His hair has been pulled back in a ponytail, a few of the hairs at the base of his neck have slipped loose. Genji wishes, suddenly, he had not sat with the table between them. He wants to touch Hanzo more properly, make that uncertainty leave his brother's worn face.

"Hanzo," Genji says again, squeezing the fingers still trapped by his own.

Hanzo's expression breaks. Crumbles.

The table doesn't matter anymore.

Genji clambers across it. The screwdriver gets knocked away, loose bolts and bits of wire. Genji doesn't care as they patter to the floor and he finds himself in Hanzo's lap.

The chair creaks. Just an old, wooden frame with a seat, never meant to hold the weight of two grown men.

Genji holds Hanzo's face between his palms. Thumbs running under Hanzo's eyes.

"You can say it, big brother. It's okay. They're never gonna hurt you again, you know."

Not a question. Genji won't allow it to be. A certainty.

Hanzo shakes his head as best he can in Genji's tight grip. His eyes are shut, eyebrows drawn. Its heartbreaking.

Painful.

Genji cannot stand it.

So he doesn't.

He presses his lips to Hanzo's as he had all those years ago. As desperate now as he had been then. Begging with his mouth for this one comfort that they can provide one another.

And Hanzo, miraculously, allows it.

He kisses back. Arms circling around Genji's shoulders, sliding over the muscles and digging in to keep him close.

Hanzo shakes his head, takes a shuddering, in-drawn breath.

"They wanted me to kill you," Hanzo says.

"But you didn't."

"I...wanted to. For. For a long time I wanted to."

"It wasn't you. And it wasn't me. You wanted to kill Sentaiman."

And he had, in a way. Something in Genji had died the day he faced Hanzo in that broken down office building; Hanzo recognizable even with the face plate.

It's his heavy brows.

The slope of his forehead.

Genji kisses it now. Kisses every inch he can get to. He scrapes his teeth against Hanzo's jaw, the sharp jut of bone just above his pulse.

Genji readjusts to suck a mark, the skin thumping beneath his lips. Because Hanzo is alive and they are together.

Something had died in Genji.

And something better had been reborn.

Hanzo's metal fingers brush through Genji's hair. Bulkier than his flesh ones, more to catch in the strands. Made for killing, not for petting.

Genji refuses to think about it, he arches back into the touch.

"Hanzo," he says. He touches Hanzo's lips. "Will you...let me show you how much I missed you, big brother?"

Hanzo flushes slightly. The tips of his ears and his nose turning red. Genji remembers this too from their younger days. He stands up from Hanzo's lap. His back jams against the table; Genji forgot how close it was. He chuckles at the face Hanzo makes.

He pulls Hanzo up and into him.

Hanzo's arms wind around his neck again. His face burrows against Genji's neck. "I'm not," he says and Genji feels his stomach drop.

"You're not what, Hanzo?"

He feels Hanzo breathing against him.

"I'm." Hanzo sighs, rolls his head to look up at Genji's face. "It's different," he says. "I'm not--"

He's shaking.

That won't do.

Genji won't have it. He centers his weight--suddenly, ridiculously happy for all the training Ange puts him through weekly--and slips his hands under Hanzo's ass. It takes some maneuvering to get Hanzo to entrust him with his weight; but eventually he is holding his brother, carrying him.

Like Hanzo used to do for him.

"I don't care," Genji says as he walks the two of them, slightly stilted and little blind, to his room. "I don't care about any of that, Hanzo."

Genji kicks the door half shut behind them. Pressing a kiss to Hanzo's cheek, his forehead, the blushing tip of his nose. So haughty and upturned. Genji lays him out on the bed.

Looks down on his older brother, his returned brother, with all the adoration he had long since given up for ghost.

Hanzo is here with him.

Whatever changes to his body it doesn't matter. They are together again as it always should have been.

Genji grins and Hanzo returns the smile slightly unsteadily. Hesitant.

Well, Genji won't have that either.

He climbs over Hanzo's body, nudges Hanzo's knees until they split wide enough for him to wedge between them. He hovers, not crushing his full, muscular weight down upon him. It's not like when they were younger.

It's more reverent, somehow.

Genji kisses Hanzo on the lips. Slow. Slow. Skimming his hand across Hanzo's chest. The material of the hoodie Hanzo is wearing is too thick to get a good feel. With only a nip of warning, Genji sits up and tugs it over Hanzo's head.

And surveys the new landscape below.

The arm is a technology to itself, connected right at the shoulder. Scars from its removal (whatever that removal was; Genji's stomach turns at the thought, revulsion and rage over the back of his tongue) trace across Hanzo's collar and across his pectoral. Spiderwebbing flesh, raised and winding and ruining the tattoo of their family. The scales have faded to more a grey blue than their original brilliant sapphire. The scar tissue doesn't help.

Gently, Genji touches it. Traces his fingers over it.

Hanzo has his head tipped back, staring up at the ceiling. His throat bobs. His nostrils flare.

"Hanzo?"

Hanzo swallows. His eyes close. Rapid movement beneath the lids, erratic jumping.

"Are you alright, Hanzo?"

"I'm fine. I will...understand if this is too much for you," he says. His eyes open, meet Genji's. They are brown and infinite and pained. "It only...gets worse," he says.

And it does. Further down his torso there is another addition, stretched carbon fiber skin supporting his sides, replacing where his lats would be. His belly button and abs are still in place, though heavily scarred. Burn marks here. More Shimada brands.

Genji lowers his lips to the one on Hanzo's bicep. Scrapes his teeth across the raised, whitened skin. He bites until it bruises, until Hanzo is squirming against him and whining.

"I'm sorry," Genji says. Pressing a kiss to the already going purple mark. "God I hate them."

"I know."

"I'm going to kill them all."

"I know."

"Every. Last. Fucking. One of them, Hanzo."

Hanzo's hands touch his face. Guide his chin back until their lips meet again. The kiss is soft with Hanzo leading. "I don't want to see you die to do it," he says when they have pulled apart. Both of them gasping.

'You're doing this for you,' Angela had said.

It's only here, wrapped in Hanzo, looking at Hanzo that Genji can admit that, maybe, she was right. Afraid to face this thing that they needed, finding another outlet instead. Impotent. Compensating.

Genji leans down, settling his weight across Hanzo's torso. His erection rubbing across a metal thigh. Not exactly comfortable, but Genji is in no way complaining. He licks into Hanzo's mouth, bites gently at his lips.

"I'll be more careful," he says.

"Do you promise?"

Genji sighs. Drops his head to run his nose along Hanzo's collar bone. "I promise," he says.

He braces his fingers against the carbon fiber additions. Traces to where they end and lets his thumbs brush up and down Hanzo's still-trembling human stomach. The bunched waistband of his sweatpants.

When Hanzo does not stop him, Genji slips them down, sits up enough to tug them off. Genji stops to breathe. He takes in the sight.

His brother's cock is thick and squat and red, stiff between his thighs. The flared head is already wet, shiny even in the low light of Genji's closed off room. Hanzo shudders when Genji wraps his hand around it. It's so fat, Genji cannot quite get his fingers to touch his thumb.

"Genji!"

"Shhh," Genji soothes. "I've got you."

Hanzo's hands are covering his face. The back of his flesh one is pink. A matching blush to the one on his cheeks, down his neck.

His hips are also scarred. The left leg ends a few inches above the mechanical knee. The cybernetics on the right go quite a bit higher. The steel and carbon fiber puzzle of it shifts and clicks as Hanzo arches his back; weight on the balls of his feet.

The damage is extensive, but Genji can hardly dwell on it with Hanzo beginning to gasp beneath him. His metal hand grabbing Genji's shoulder and clinging to the fabric of his tee-shirt. Pulling it. Stretching it.

Genji hisses, leans in close to press a kiss to Hanzo's chin, the scruff of his beard tickling against Genji's lips. Hanzo's flesh hand, still balanced to hide his eyes has gone white-knuckled. Genji teases it up with his nose while still jerking Hanzo off with short, sure strokes.

"Look at me, big brother," he says.

Hanzo shakes his head, his hand switches to push at Genji's face. "You...you don't mean it."

"Mean what?"

"Mean this. I'm not...I'm not the brother who was taken away. I'm just a...I don't-don't want you pitying me, Genji."

Genji doesn't chuckle, but it is a close thing.

Pity.

It had never even crossed his mind.

He drops his weight onto his hips, fumbles his hand from Hanzo's dick to his own waistband. Pushing the material out of the way. Rutting his cock right up against Hanzo's when it is free.

"Does this feel like pity to you?" Genji asks. And he allows the lightness to enter his tone, the smile on his lips. He nips Hanzo's wrist where it is still pressed to his face, teeth along the tendons.

"Well," he says, "does it?"

Hanzo grunts his metal hand joins Genji's squeezing them together. It should probably hurt. Or be terrifying, Genji has seen what Hanzo can crush in that hand. But he is gentle, cupping their cocks together. Lifting his hips to urge Genji lower.

Begging with his whole damn body.

Genji grins against the skin of Hanzo's arm.

"What do you want from me?" he asks.

"Genji..."

"Sweet Hanzo. You have to--," he leans down to kiss Hanzo's cheek. The pink tip of his nose. Right under his eye. "You have to tell me what you need."

"You."

"You have me."

Hanzo grunts again. Huffing. His palm sweats against Genji's ear. "All of you."

Genji drops his fingers. Grazes his thumb up against Hanzo's ass, dry. The soft entrance flutters against him and Hanzo makes a sound that is practically inhuman. Genji doesn't try for much more than that. Suffices for now with just...rubbing. Rubbing.

Hanzo's cock jumps against his own. The sweat from Hanzo's brow in his mouth, across his tongue.

"You have all of me," Genji says. "Whenever--however--you need it. Always, big brother. I'm yours."

And Hanzo, gasping, clenching, bucking beneath him demands more. A leg flung over Genji's shoulder, jarring him enough his thumb slips into Hanzo's entrance. The muscles part for him too easily. And when Genji focuses, pressing his other fingers against it, he can feel the distance crosshatch weave of carbon fiber.

Oh.

Oh.

Whatever happened to his brother, Genji cannot even imagine. He blinks away the thoughts.

"Do you want me to fuck you," he asks.

Hanzo sobs, nods. His sweaty hair sticks to his cheeks. The scars dotting his body are all pale and bloodless. "I want you to want to," Hanzo says.

Genji grins. Shifts to drag his cock along the cleft of Hanzo's cheeks; Hanzo's own fat dick brushing up against his stomach.

"Oh, Hanzo," he says, "I want to."

His cockhead catches on the rim. And Genji is amazed, absolutely astounded when he presses in and there is little resistance. It's dry, mostly; Genji spits on his palm and rubs his fingers where he is breaching Hanzo's most intimate place. It will be uncomfortable. Next time they will need lube.

But Hanzo doesn't seem to notice.

His back is arched. Blinking. Staring at the ceiling.

"Are you okay?"

Hanzo nods. His eyelids flutter.

"It's odd," he says.

"Yeah. Really weird, huh?" Genji moves, pressing his cock as deep as the awkward angle will allow. He huffs a breath into Hanzo's collarbone, kisses the scars beneath his lips. "God, Hanzo. It's like..."

His hips buck; Hanzo spreads his legs to allow him deeper. The cybernetics click. One more sensation to be lost with the rest. The friction that is too dry and Hanzo, lost under it, panting. Cock leaking.

Genji pulls almost all the way out.

He slams back in.

And Hanzo writhes beneath him.

Shuddering. Gasping and grasping at the parts of Genji closest to him. Human fingers digging so hard it will most certainly bruise.

"It's like-like they made you for me," Genji says. Grunting, working his hips. Driving himself deeper and deeper. "Like they--fuck--they knew you'd be coming home to me."

Hanzo nods. "Yes," he says. "Yes, Genji, little brother, yes!"

And then he comes. Over the metal of his own hand, Genji's stomach, his own trembling abs. A mess. Thick, sticky come. Leaking between them. His body, so stiff and stressed and on edge, collapses into the bed. Sinks.

Melts.

Genji lifts his weight just enough to keep from suffocating Hanzo beneath him. Genji's cock is still buried in him. It pulses, nestled in Hanzo's warmth.

Hanzo squirms, oversensitive and rolls his head.

Genji picks up the pace again. Focusing. Hanzo's hand, come covered finds Genji's neck. The metal is warm, startlingly so. Genji sinks into a rhythm quickly.

"We--will--" Genji grunts, working his hips. "That is--we'll have to-to prepare better next time."

Hanzo is staring up at him, starry-eyed. Fucked out. He nods anyway when Genji kisses his chin. His lips. The pout of them.

"Okay," he says. He takes a shuddering breath. "I love you, Genji."

Genji stalls, freezes. His cock pulses. Coming from that; how embarrassing?

Except maybe it isn't.

Because Genji wouldn't have it any other way.

"I love you too, Hanzo," he says. Panting through the come down. Collapsing against his brother. "I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr @vrunkawrites and talk to me about things :3


End file.
